


Love Doesn't Hurt

by notdavestrider



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Deviates From Canon, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, One shot that could become a short fic but who knows, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, Pining, References to Depression, Relationship(s), Rough Sex, Sad, Sexual Content, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 13:53:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11922267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notdavestrider/pseuds/notdavestrider
Summary: No cult ending here. Just your regular cheating Youth Minister with a yacht.A follow-up to Joseph's endings, where he offers Dadsona to keep meeting in secret but this time Dadsona accepts.





	Love Doesn't Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> So, full disclosure:  
> I originally planned this story to have three or four chapters, with Dadsona hurting because of Joseph and then Robert helping him get out of that relationship, but 
> 
> 1) I'm not even sure the DDADDS fandom is still out there?  
> 2) I'm not sure if I'll have time since I have so many other things to write
> 
> For now, this is a one-shot I HAD to do because boy do I love pain and hurting. 
> 
> BUT if you like it and want the rest of it, let me know. If enough people seem to enjoy it I promise I'll finish it even if it takes me a couple months, because I reaaaally want write the rest of it. So make sure to subscribe in case that's a thing that happens.
> 
> Also please read the notes at the end for a very important disclaimer about this ship/fic.

**1**  

 

 

As a Dad, you always think your kids will need you until the day you die.

 

Even if they say they don’t.

 

There is, of course, that brief period of rebellion in their teenage years when they want to do everything by themselves, but after life knocks them down a few times they eventually come back to you. Receptive and yearning for your wise Dad-vise.

 

But not Amanda.

 

At least not yet.

 

It’s been a couple of hellish months. My only daughter has left for college and I barely know what to do with myself anymore. Children become the center of your universe from the moment they arrive into your life and it’s hard to stop orbiting around them from one day to another.

 

She texts me and calls me whenever she has some free time, keeping me in the loop of important things or just sending me pictures of her diverse encounters with unhealthy foods. She never misses an opportunity to taunt me with her favorite bad habits, even now that she’s far away. I tend to indulge her at times, either pretending to be alarmed or giving my approval, but only because I know her comments about living off cup ramen and committing arson are just part of our shared brand of humor.

 

Or so I hope.

 

I don’t want to doubt her. I want to believe she’s doing well on her own. And why shouldn’t she be? She’s smart, strong, and she knows how to dial 911. She did it once when I started choking on a chicken wing during a barbecue, right before she successfully performed the Heimlich maneuver on me.

 

If that tells us anything, is that I need her more than she needs me. My kid is out there in the world living at her fullest, while I try to get comfortable with the idea of living on my own for the first time ever.

 

It’s almost six in the afternoon and I haven’t moved a finger in the past hour or so. I’m just lying on my couch with both feet propped up on the armrest, looking at the ceiling as an invisible weight on my chest crushes me down.

 

It’s not just Panda leaving what has kept me on the couch for most of my free time.

 

Truth is, I’ve fucked up. I’ve fucked up a lot in a very short period of time. I tried going out with some of my friends and neighbors, distract myself and not be at home after work… but I can’t see anyone in the eye these days. I don’t deserve any sympathy or good friends to rely on. And I don't think they actually know about it, but it doesn’t really matter.

 

I have already come to terms with the fact that I am not a good person.

 

I spend most days of the week contemplating what a horrible human being I am, feeling sick of myself and hoping someone would bulldoze my house with me in it.

 

On weekends, however, I spend my days with Joseph in his yacht.

 

That’s where I’m heading as soon as the clock hits 6, hence the crushing guilt and the increasing feelings of pulsating self-hate. They only go away until I board the stupid yacht, but sometimes it takes a glass of wine or a couple margaritas.

 

The argument that I have to ease up to it in order to be okay with our whatever-it-is stopped being in my favor since the fifth encounter, but I’ll take anything.

 

Joseph and Mary decided to stay together after all, but I stuck around because I clearly have no sense of self-worth. I’m not sure if I really buy half of the excuses I give myself every time. About how their marriage was over before I even moved here, and that their only reason to live under the same roof was to give a good image to the neighborhood and their kids.

 

There was no love, no mutual respect. They don’t want to be together.

 

But that weight on my chest won’t leave me.

 

I regularly forget why I’m doing this.

 

My phone goes DING over the coffee table, a sound I have been both fearing and anticipating. Blessed and cursed my beautiful child for making sure I learned how to use Dadbook from my phone before she left.

 

I sit down on the couch and take a quick look, confirming it’s a message from him.

 

_“I got us some dessert that I think you’ll like._

_Can’t wait to see your handsome face, I’ve been missing you like crazy.“_

 

My stomach twirls as I read, and I feel my face blushing. All previous thoughts dissipate after that message.

 

I haven’t seen him all week. I really miss him too.

 

I need to take a shower and change my clothes.

 

 

____________________________

 

 

“Don’t move, you’re going to get the sheets dirty.”

 

“I’m trying, but it’s cold!”

 

Joseph chuckles and I can only feel embarrassed.

 

He’s holding a small metal bowl with melted chocolate in one hand, and a freshly dipped strawberry in the other. He has left a thin brown trail running over my stomach and chest, and he looks proud about it. Without breaking eye contact, he bites the strawberry.

 

The chocolate trail heats up on my skin as if my body was a frying pan.

 

 _Goddammit,_ why is he so hot?

 

His yacht hasn’t changed too much since the first time I was here. He got rid of some pictures, and everything seems a bit more organized now that he’s back to living with Mary… with the exception of this bed, that remains a mess at all times. No point in making it when there’s so little sleeping happening in it, I guess.

 

After chewing and swallowing half of the strawberry, Joseph dips it again in the chocolate. He places it gently against my lips. I yield, opening my mouth to grab the remains of the fruit with my teeth.

 

But before I’m able to chew on it, Joseph grabs my chin and kisses me, hard. The taste of the sweet and his mouth mix together in my tongue. I close my eyes, letting a muffled groan escape my throat.

 

He’s so infuriatingly good at this. He even managed to steal a portion of the strawberry in my mouth somehow.

 

Joseph breaks the kiss with a satisfied smile, but he doesn’t go too far. His breath hits my face, and I can feel his eyelashes brushing the bridge of my nose. I wonder if he can tell my body is buzzing in anticipation. Or maybe that’s just how it feels to me. I did drink past my usual second glass of Merlot.

 

“You’re so quiet today,” he says scanning my face in detail. His voice is a murmur that tickles my chin. “Am I boring you with all this foreplay?”

 

I shake my head. ‘Boring’ is not the word I would use... ‘Torturing’, perhaps.

 

I suddenly feel cold dripping on my chest again. I jump on my place with a yelp.

 

My body shivers as I watch Joseph emptying the remaining chocolate on me, his eyes still hooked on mine as if he wanted to remember every second of my reaction.

 

My face starts burning with renewed agitation.

 

“Don’t worry, we’re done with games for today,” Joseph announces, placing the chocolate bowl on the nightstand.

 

But instead of returning to my side, he kneels on the bed and looks down at me.

 

Wow he’s so naked right now.

 

Not that I didn’t know that, of course. That’d be weird. We took off our clothes a while ago. But it’s hard not to notice the amount of nakedness a second time, since he seems so... happy to see me.

 

Joseph grabs my legs and pulls them towards him, positioning himself between them. I almost yelp again but somehow manage to contain it. I see him lean down. He slides his tongue across the chocolate trail, wiping most of it on his way up. I shudder and hold onto the bedsheets hard, then harder when his voice crashes against my ear. I recoil a little at the strong sensation.

 

“I think I’m ready for the real dessert.” His words are simple, but his tone is short from turning lustful. I feel his hand running up my leg and I do my best not to let a pleased sigh come out... but my body is growing impatient and my best is not enough. “Remember to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ loud and clear this time, hm? No reason to be bashful in the middle of the sea where no one can hear you.”

 

Great, now I’m turned on and slightly horrified.

 

I try to lighten up my thoughts a little with a nervous chuckle.

 

“Just me, you, and the whales, uh?”

 

I hear Joseph clicking his tongue. He’s unimpressed.

 

“Again with the whales?”

 

Ouch.

 

He does that sometimes. In the past few months I’ve learned Joseph is a very good actor. He’s a Youth Minister, after all. I guess he has to be good at pretending to care. And I’ve been slowly realizing he pretended to care about a lot of things when we were getting to know each other.

 

These days he sticks to what he likes and expects me to tag along, and if he doesn’t appreciate something he always lets me know.

 

I actually prefer that he’s being honest... although I wish he weren't so mean about it.

 

But even though I feel hurt, the bitter pill doesn’t last long.

 

His mouth takes over the side of my neck and I suppress a moan.

 

No one should be allowed to be this good at kissing. I am but a mere tipsy dad, with dubious morals and several weak spots he knows from A to Z. My skin feels flammable and I’m sure it’s catching fire once his hands are touching me all over.

 

I’m tired of the sadness in my head. I don’t want to feel bad about Joseph’s comments tonight. I don’t want to analyze if he pretends to like me to get free sex, or if he actually feels something for me. Any possibility is a pandora box I avoid opening if I can. I just don’t want to think. And I can always not think when I give Joseph complete control.

 

So I do. Once again.

 

I’m used to his roughness now. He leaves bite marks on my shoulders and bruises with the shape of his fingers on my hips. Sometimes he wraps a hand around my neck, and sometimes he pulls my hair until either of us reaches climax... or until I can’t take it anymore and whimper “not so hard”.

 

We’ve tried some interesting things together, and I discovered new stuff I like. And I’m all about it, really. I would’ve stopped coming here a long time ago if I wasn’t.

 

But… occasionally, on bad days, when I’m feeling blue or particularly unlovable... I can’t help but think that Joseph actually enjoys hurting me. That those bite marks and bruises are reminders that I belong to him. That he wants me to see them when we are not together just so I miss him. And it works, every time.

 

But just as it’s easy for my mind to jump to those depressing conclusions from time to time, it’s also easy to forget all about them right after the sex.

 

Because even though Joseph likes being aggressive when in bed, he’s surprisingly tender afterwards. It’s like once he’s satisfied, he turns into this sweet purring kitten that wants nothing but to cover my face with kisses, and caress any red or purple stains on my skin.

 

I know I’m starved for affection, but those moments of holding each other are the most quiet I get to have now.

 

No overthinking, no stressing over things I have no control of. I just feel his warm breathing on the back of my neck and his arms tightly wrapped around me, and I feel so safe. I feel so happy.

 

Loving Joseph hurts most of the time.

 

But then again, when you are built the way I am, everything does.

 

 

[(X)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7XmqOAbFuY)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think (please and thank you <3)
> 
> I used to be addicted to painful ships. The more it hurt the better. But now I appreciate only the complex ones. The relationships between Mary/Joseph/Robert/Dadsona are absolutely fascinating to me, but the best about this kind of stories is that they help me cope with shit I've buried deep inside.
> 
> **I want to make it clear that I do not support, endorse or romanticize this kind of relationships.**
> 
> Joseph is not entirely evil (I choose to ignore the cult thing because I don't like creepypasta-like stuff in fandoms), and the different layers to his personality are something I rarely get to see in media, even less in a dating sim. That's why I'm obsessed with him and his relationships. But even the nicest layer can't cover up the bad ones, and it's important to remember that **if someone makes you feel like this, then they don't love you, because love doesn't hurt.**
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this bit, hopefully I'll be back because I really want Robert and Mary to save poor Dadsona.
> 
> xo.Ro
> 
> *･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　THANKS FOR READING　✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*


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